That Which Makes Him Human
by ibelieveinguardianangels
Summary: A series of one-shots based on Conan Doyle's 'The Baker Street Irregulars'. These revolve around a group of children who Sherlock rescued and took under his wing. (Sorry for the bad summary.)
1. Chapter 1

**That Which Makes Him Human was an idea based on **_**The Baker Street Irregulars **_**from the Sign of Four. This is a series of one-shots based on a group of children Sherlock has 'rescued' and taken under his wing. The children serve as assets on cases and assist the detective when necessary, in return he provides company, stability and love. There are 11 'Irregulars' in total; Dean and Kaine, Zachary, Isadore, Eleiyah (pronounced Alea), Peter, Farrell, Lucy, Rosalie, Tamsyn and Victoria who range in age from 5 to 14. The first few chapters will be introductory chapters to the characters and how they came to live in the accommodation provided by Mycroft and Sherlock. Following that will be adventures in which the children join Sherlock, assist him, spend time with him (and John of course) etc. **

**Each introductory chapter to the 'Irregulars' will start with a brief explanation. **

**Sorry about any mistakes. **

**Dean and Kaine twins, 8** \- Sherlock discovered Dean and Kaine on a case. The two were hiding in the wardrobe of a large house and were terrified after witnessing their beloved mother and father being murdered in front of them. The pair were taken into care and escaped numerous times, somehow avoiding the social services. They were heavily monitored by Mycroft's staff and Sherlock would visit the pair everyday to make sure they had food. Eventually, Sherlock recruited them and, so began the Baker Street Irregulars - a group of street kids/orphans who assist in intelligence gathering for Sherlock.

Dean and Kaine

_"It's okay," Sherlock's deep voice rumbled around the otherwise quiet room causing Detective Inspector Lestrade to cock his head, furrowing his eyebrows as he regarded the man, watching as he spoke quietly to the wardrobe at the back of the crime scene. The team had been called to a murder scene, a wealthy married couple both in their early forties, "you're scared, I know that. But you can come out now." Lestrade made to join to man at the wardrobe but Sherlock waved him back with his left hand, not removing his eyes from the dark wooden closet. "You can come out." Sherlock repeated, "You're safe now." Lestrade was about to question the detective on his drug habit when the door to the wardrobe creaked open slightly and a small head of dark brown hair peeked out. "That's it," Sherlock soothed, "you can come out." _

_A small boy slowly emerged from the shadows and stood before the detective with his head bowed. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak again when he saw movement behind the first boy and another appeared from the inside of the wardrobe, an identical twin. They stood side by side, mirroring one another's position, both standing with their feet together, their arms by their sides and their heads bowed. Sherlock kept his distance but lowered himself so that he matched their height, he rested his arms on his thighs, his palms facing the sky to show the boys that he meant no harm. _

_"You saw it all, didn't you?" Sherlock questioned, "You witnessed it from inside that wardrobe." The consulting detective pointed towards the place they had just vacated. The detective inspector in the doorway released a gasp as the boys nodded in unison. "It's okay now." Sherlock soothed, keeping his voice gentle. Sherlock shed his large Belstaff, holding it out to Lestrade who stepped forwards and took it, realising that Sherlock was trying to make himself seem as unthreatening as possible to the two frightened little boys. A sniffle met Sherlock's ears and he witnessed as one of the boy's elbowed the other in the ribs to get him to be quiet. _

_"No, it's alright." Sherlock soothed, the last thing they needed was for these poor boys to hurt each other, "You're frightened, I understand." He spoke to the source of the sniffle and lowered himself further until he was kneeling down in front of the twins, sitting on his feet, observing the pair. The boys didn't raise their heads but Sherlock could see the glisten of tears on their cheeks. "I'm Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes." The detective introduced himself, hoping the boys will follow suit. "And this is Inspector Lestrade and Sergeant Donovan." He continued when the boys remained silent, pointing to them respectively. "And you are?" He coaxed. _

_"Dean." Came a murmur from the small boy on the right._

_"Kaine." Came the response from the boy who had jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow earlier. _

_"Dean and Kaine," Sherlock repeated, slowly moving towards the boys, not once rising from his knees. He stopped when Kaine stepped backwards, his eyes flickering towards his brother and the detective presented his palms again._

_"Mummy and daddy are dead," Kaine's voice was barely above a whisper, "aren't they?" The boy's gaze rose to meet Sherlock's eyes and the detective nodded, his expression sympathetic. "Why did he do it?" Kaine hiccoughed and Sherlock felt his heart sink when he realised that he had no answer for the twins. _

_"Some people do nasty things," Sherlock spoke finally, "we don't know why." _

_"What will we do now?" Dean inquired, looking up at the detective with watery blue eyes. _

_"We're going to take you down to the station," Lestrade answered for Sherlock, "until we can find someone to look after you." Sherlock nodded along with the inspector's words. The consulting detective waited patiently, rising to his feet and holding his pale hands out for the little boy's, smiling sadly to himself when they slowly slipped their own, smaller ones into his. _

_"Have you boys ever been in a police car?" Sergeant Donovan questioned the twins, watching as they shook their small heads. "Would you like to?" _

_"Will you?" Dean asked, looking up at Sherlock with innocent eyes. And for once, Sherlock agreed to travel to the police station in a police car, taking his coat from Lestrade and sitting in between the two boys. _

**I'd love to know what you think. This was just a spur of the moment idea and I'd like to know if it would be read. **

**Thank you for reading. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's Zac's introductory chapter. **

**Thank you for the reviews. **

**Sorry for any mistakes. **

**Zachary (Zac) 11 - **Zac came after Dean and Kaine. Sherlock had, literally, bumped into him in a search for a dealer one day. The boy had appeared all of a sudden out of an alleyway and straight into the path of the consulting detective. After berating him for not watching where he was going and helping him off the ground, he offered his services and, after a series of failed foster placements, he became a member of Sherlock's irregulars.

Zachary

_The consulting detective's black shoes scraped across the floor as he skidded to a stop, feeling his tall, lean frame collide with a much smaller one, sending the other sliding on his side along the wet concrete outside what had become known as the 'druggie lane'. He towered over the small figure, taking in his features as he did so. _

_He was a relatively small boy with, what could only be described as, angelic features. He was sporting baby blue eyes that had been reddened from crying, the detective could see water droplets on the boy's cheeks but couldn't decide whether they were raindrops or remnants of tears. His scalp was hidden by a layer of floppy hair that he assumed had once been a sandy blond, but the boy hadn't been washed in so long, it was clumped together and had darkened in some areas. _

_He was clad in scraggy clothing, a pair of jogging bottoms so worn down they we're barely more than holes and he was sure that he had been the cause of a large one that had appeared on his right thigh. His shirt was dirty and far too large for him, it was baggy around the shoulders and hung on him almost like a dress. The boy's pale, but dirty, skin was wet from the rain and had been reddened by the cold. _

"_You really ought to watch where you're going," the detective noted in a rumbling voice, "imagine if this had been a road and I a car." A pale, skinny hand was extended to the boy who, tentatively, accepted the assistance, allowing himself to be lifted from the wet ground._

"_That's a nasty graze," the man noted, gesturing to the large raw area on his arm that the boy had clearly sustained during his fall, "it could do with cleaning. There's a small cafe near here," he threw a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the building, "we can use their toilet to get it cleaned. Come on." He turned on his heel and set off walking, only coming to a stop when he realised he wasn't being followed. "Come on." He repeated as he turned to look at the boy, following the words with a slight tilt of his head. _

_The child jogged to catch up with him, his injured right arm hanging limply by his side now that the injury had been pointed out to him. He trailed the man in the long Belstaff to the cafe he had mentioned without speaking. He followed him through the building, ignoring the questioning looks he was receiving, and into the disabled toilet, the only toilet in there and the one the owner used as a public loo. _

"_Who are you running away from?" The detective questioned as the he set the cold tap running to warm up, gathering some toilet role, "Family, I'm assuming." _

"_My older brother." The boy mumbled, his first words since he had met him, as he shrugged, watching the man reach for his immobile arm and set about dabbing the injury clean, inspecting it every so often. _

"_I'm Sherlock," the detective introduced himself as he reached for another wad of toilet paper, "Sherlock Holmes. And you are?" _

"_Zachary." He responded before revising his words quickly, correcting himself, "Zac." _

**Thanks for reading.**

**I'd love to know what you think. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	3. Chapter 3

**Here is Isadore's introductory chapter. She's the youngest of the 'irregulars'. **

**Thank you for your reviews. **

**Sorry for any mistakes. **

**Isadore (Isa) 5** \- Isadore (or Isa as she preferred to be called) is a 5 year old who appeared on the doorstep of Sherlock's Montague address when he returned from a case in the early hours of the morning. Isadore was trembling and so thin, Sherlock could clearly see her ribs through the thin t shirt she was wearing. Sherlock invited her in, fed her and bathed her before contacting the social services. The girl screamed bloody murder and refused to let go of Sherlock's shirt when the social services tried to take her. The girl reappeared a few weeks later, yelling about how she wasn't going to go back to that place. Sherlock introduced her to the irregulars.

_The child's frantic screams pierced the air and the detective's nose scrunched up in discomfort as he tried to peel her hands away from his clothing. His white button-down shirt was bunched up inside her tiny fists as she tried with all her might to cling to him. He was a safe haven for her, he'd helped her, fed her, bathed her - he'd looked after her and now they were trying to take him away from her. A pained screech of his name left her lips and he felt a lump jump into his throat at the panic-stricken expression on her small features. _

_"Isadore, please," Sherlock forced himself to remain calm as he continued to try and unclench her unexpectedly strong fists and release his shirt, all the while attempting to pacify the terrified girl, "you have to go with Dawn." The more he tried to soothe her the more upset she became and she was soon hiccoughing around her tears, begging Sherlock not to let them take her. Eventually, the pair managed to free the detective's shirt and the social worked wrestled her from his apartment and dragged her, kicking and screaming to the car. _

_Sherlock had discovered the frail looking child huddled into herself, crouched uncomfortably outside his Montague address. She was leaning against the brick wall of the building, resting on the balls of her feet with her arms resting on her knees and her face hidden in the crook of her elbow. The detective had been returning from a case Detective Inspector Lestrade had dumped in front of him to stop him from causing trouble with his landlord and, if he was completely honest, he couldn't wait to escape the chill of the winter, completely satisfied with the outcome of the investigation. It was when he rounded the corner to his street that he found himself squinting and pushing his head forward slightly to try and focus more on the balled up outline beside his doorstep._

_When it registered in Sherlock's mind that the outline belonged to a very young human, he quickened his pace and made his way to the child. The consulting detective felt his heart plunge into his stomach when he finally reached the small girl. _

_She was scrawny with limbs that seemed far too long and thin for her tiny body. Her dark brown hair seemed black, matted together with a layer of grime and her clammy skin would have been pale, had it not been for the filth that seemed to be building up on her. She was sporting a shirt that was made of a flimsy material that seemed to be tearing, clearly rotten to the point of disintegration. Her bottom half was covered only by a pair of knickers and Sherlock couldn't help but feel uncomfortable for her. _

_Sherlock lowered himself slowly so that he was crouching in front of her, trying to imitate her height as best he could so that he, hopefully, would seem as unintimidating as possible to the frightened little girl. Noting the man's presence the child looked up, terrified blue eyes piercing his own. Her entire body was trembling violently as she watched the detective in front of her adopt an open position, crouched on the balls of his feet, his legs spread to keep his balance, Sherlock crouched on the balls of his feet with his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands open and clear to her. _

_"Sherlock Holmes," He introduced himself, keeping his baritone voice as light and gentle as he could whilst he kept his gaze on the girl's face, taking in her expressions. The child didn't respond, only continued to stare at the man in the Belstaff, "surely you must be cold." The detective didn't wait for a response this time and shed his coat as he spoke. He moved slowly so that he didn't startle her and wrapped it around her small frame, the coat burying her. He nodded to the door beside her, "would you like to come in? It's nice and warm in there." _

_The child appeared to contemplate this offer before nodding her head. The action was so quick that had the detective not been observing her, he would have missed it altogether. Sherlock waited for the girl to make the first move, she silently rose from the ground and the detective copied her, holding out his hand, unlocking the door with his other and guiding her in. He'd learn her name and age later, what was important now was warming her up. _

**Thank you for reading. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	4. Chapter 4

**2 updates today. Here is Tamsyn's introduction. **

**I just want to note that I don't think I'm going to be continuing 'Forever Fernanda'. **

**Sorry for any mistakes. **

**Sorry that this one is so short. **

**Tamsyn (Tammie) 9** \- Tamsyn (or Tammie) is a very sweet little girl who has a habit of referring to Sherlock as Mr. Holmes or 'Mr. Sherlock, sir' despite the man's protests. Tammie came searching for Sherlock to help her find her missing brother but, try as he might, he wasn't successful - it appeared the boy had just disappeared without a trace. Tammie was always a street child, she didn't remember anything else. Sherlock knew that trying to find a family for her would just unsettle the girl, so he welcomed her into the irregulars.

Tammie

_"Yes?" Sherlock's baritone voice held a bored undertone as he opened the door to the small, frail looking child. She was a street kid, clearly, Sherlock could tell. She was far too thin for Sherlock's liking and obviously didn't have access to regular meals; she was far too dirty to have come from a home with running water. Her, once pink, dress had faded in colour and her small bare feet were dirty and blistered. She stared up at the man for a few moments before coming to her senses and doing what she had come to do in the first place. _

_"Are you Mr. Holmes?" She questioned, frustrated with herself for sounding so unsure, "I think I have a case." She noted, clearer this time, as the detective nodded. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before pulling the door open and gesturing for her to enter the apartment, pulling out a chair at the table and gesturing for her to take a seat. _

_"Your name?" Was the first thing Sherlock asked as he joined her at the table, steeping his fingers over his lips. The child introduced herself as "Tamsyn, but I prefer Tammie", and at Sherlock's further inquiry, stated her case. Her older brother had gone missing over two days ago and, no matter who she asked, no-one had seen him. It appeared that he had simply vanished. Tammie had brought the few belongings her brother actually owned for the detective to inspect and a photograph of them both that she kept stored down the front of her dress. _

_"Aren't you just the model client?" Sherlock questioned as he accepted to proffered items. "Have you reported his disappearance to Scotland Yard?" _

"_He's a street kid, Mr. Holmes," _

_"Sherlock," He interjected, correcting her before nodding at her to continue. _

_"We go missing everyday, people don't bat an eyelid." Sherlock tilted his head on an angle whilst regarding the child. She was polite, especially for a street child, and after overcoming her initial nervousness, she was confident for her age. Finding himself intrigued by her manners, her personality and her dedication for finding her older brother, the detective accepted her case. _

_The consulting detective searched long and hard for Noah, but he couldn't find hide nor hair of the boy and had to break the news to the little girl that he feared that he wasn't going to be returning to her. By way of an apology for being unable to retrieve her sibling, the detective introduced her to the irregulars. _

**Thank you for reading. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	5. Chapter 5

**Here is Eleiyah's character background. **

**Thank you for the reviews so far, I enjoy reading them. **

**Sorry for any mistakes. **

**Eleiyah (Pronounced Alea) 7 - **Sherlock stumbled over Eleiyah in a museum. The little girl was hiding near a display of protons and neutrons. Sherlock had been attending a lecture because the lecturer was a suspected murderer and Sherlock needed to gather more concrete evidence. He had been sauntering past her hiding place when something drew his head around and locked his eyes on her frame. She was curled up with her knees brought to her chest. Sherlock helped her search for her 'mama' before she turned up as the corpse at a crime scene. Sherlock arranged for a foster family, but it didn't work out. She was an angry little girl. Eventually, she came to be a member of the irregulars and reported back to the detective on a regular basis.

Eleiyah

_Sherlock came to a stop. His eyebrows, a lighter colour than his hair, furrowed and his nose scrunched up. His head turned slowly, trying to discover the source of the sudden feeling of dread that had appeared in his stomach. It didn't take him long to find it. Crouched in the corner just behind an exhibit about Protons and Neutrons was a child. She had her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms looped around them in a defensive position. Her eyes met those of the detective as he made his way towards her. _

_"You don't look very comfortable," Sherlock noted, his deep voice vibrating in his chest as he leant casually against the wall beside the display, his coat falling around his knees. "Why don't you join me on the sofas?" _

_The child didn't reply. Instead she simply stared quizzically at the detective in the dark clothing. Sherlock held back a soft sigh and turned slightly so he could see her face properly. She was a beautiful child who held a resemblance to the stereotypical image of an angel. She had a head of flowing blonde hair that passed her shoulders and cascaded down her back. Her eyes were similar to his own, even down to the sectoral heterochromia. _

_The girl was dressed smartly in a pretty white frock with a light blue bow around her waist. Her small feel were covered with frilly socks and white strap on sandals. Sherlock thought that she wouldn't look out of place in a wedding photograph. _

_"Where are your parents?" The detective questioned gently, regretting the choice when the girl's face crumpled and large tears made an appearance, rolling down her cheeks and dripping from her chin onto her dress. _

_"Mama was angry." She hiccoughed, her first words since the man appeared. "She left me here. Now I can't find her." The image of the lecturer he had been observing flashed across the detective's mind. He pushed the thought away before turning his attention to the girl. _

_"I can held you find your," Sherlock paused, swallowing as though struggling to say the word, "mama." He finished, holding back a shudder. "But first, I'd like to know your name." _

_"Eleiyah." _Of course_, Sherlock thought to himself, _a sophisticated name for a sophisticated little girl_. The detective reciprocated the action, introducing himself before holding his hand out for her. _

_The detective did try and find Eleiyah's mother, but to no avail. It wasn't until three weeks later, during which the child had been lodging with him, when a case came through from Scotland Yard that Sherlock managed to track the woman down. Well, most of her at least. Morgana had been the next victim to the 'lecturer' just as Sherlock had suspected. _

_The detective arranged a foster placement for the girl but it didn't work out. She was far too angry to settle into a foster home, she didn't want new parents, she wanted her 'mama'. Instead, Sherlock introduced her to the irregulars, putting Dean and Kaine in charge of looking after her. _

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please let me know what you think. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here is Peter's introductory paragraph. **

**This is dedicated to **Hummingbird2 **who has unfailingly reviewed each chapter of this compilation so far. So, thank you. **

**Sorry for any mistakes.**

**Peter 9 - **Peter had only been 8 when Sherlock saved him from his father. The little boy was very quiet, but a wonderful asset to Sherlock. The detective happened to have discovered him hiding in a tree trunk in the nearby park Sherlock was in categorising insects. Sherlock had gained Peter's trust and taken him to his Montague address before following necessary measures and introducing him to the irregulars.

Peter

The consulting detective was mumbling to himself as he stood, observing the earwig he had been allowing to scurry across his hand. He added the insect to the folder in his mind palace that already contained the silverfish he had discovered scuttling around his bathroom floor. He'd been observing the earwig for a while now and was categorising the similarities between the two insects, comparing them to the differences he had already filed away.

Sherlock had just finished his internal list of food sources for the earwig when his thought process was interrupted by movement from a nearby tree. The detective's eyebrows furrowed as he placed the insect on the ground, saving the new fact compilation, and allowing it to get on with its life as he slowly headed towards the tree trunk.

He wasn't sure what he expected to find in the hollowed out tree trunk he had passed numerous times. A stray cat or a lost dog, perhaps, but he certainly did not expect to stumble across a child. The boy looked terrified when he noted Sherlock's presence and the man was sure his tall, lean figure didn't help that. He couldn't be any older than ten, Sherlock reasoned as he lowered himself to his knelt down in front of the tree trunk.

The child had hair that rivalled Sherlock's own. Floppy blond curls fell into deep blue irises, hiding the emotion inside from the detective. But he didn't need to see his eyes, his body language told the man enough. He didn't raise his head, avoiding all eye contact Sherlock tried to instigate after he recovered from his initial surprise, instead he focused on his own stocking feet, his big toe poking out of a hole in the once-white socks.

Sherlock purposely ignored the growing wet patch on the front of the boy's beige trousers, ignoring the puddle forming around his feet, and instead focused on trying to get him to talk. The detective introduced himself, told him about his profession, he even told him his age to try and entice some form of communication from the boy. Failing that, he dropped onto the dirty ground, ignoring the mud he knew would now be coating his Belstaff and continued to speak to him.

Sherlock spoke about anything and everything, ranging from the weather to the flowers growing around the bottom of the tree the boy remained standing in. Sherlock didn't know how long it was he'd been sitting there for, but it worked. The boy told Sherlock his name. The detective didn't need the boy to tell him what had happened to him. It was so obvious, even Anderson could deduce it.

Peter, as he introduced himself, was a quiet child. He refused to make eye contact with anyone that he viewed as an authority figure, including the detective and was rather unsure of himself. Sherlock alerted Mycroft of the child and followed the necessary measures before deciding that the boy was in no fit state to be dumped with a foster family. Instead, he took care of the boy in his own apartment before introducing him to his growing army of little eyes and ears.

**Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter deals with the theme of child abuse. There are no graphic descriptions or anything like that, but just in case, I thought I'd give a warning. Obviously the previous chapter should have been italicised. **

**Thank you for the reviews. **

**Sorry for any mistakes. **

**I'm also sorry that this is so short (the standard seems to have dropped in this one, but I believe it covers what I needed it to) the next one will be better. **

**I have all of the introductory stories written now, they're just waiting to be posted, I hope to do that today.**

**Farrell 14** \- Farrell had approached Sherlock with a case. When the detective figured out that the boy was being abused and looking for someone to help him and his little brother, he informed the social services and began his search for the little boy's brother. By the time he discovered him, it was too late. Farrell was heartbroken and depressed when he found out and Sherlock made it his job to care for him. When he felt he was ready, he introduced the boy to his irregulars.

_"I'm sorry," Was all Sherlock managed to say before the teenager broke down in tears, dropping his head onto his folded arms, resting against the wooden table. The detective reached out, awkwardly patting the boy's shoulder in a bid to soothe him. "I tried," Sherlock assured him, "believe me I did. But it was too late. I'm sorry." He repeated, forcing his voice to remain soft as he spoke to the boy, watching as Farrell sobbed, his body convulsing with the effort. "Farrell, look at me." He did so. "Think of it this way; yes, it's sad that he's gone, but he's no longer in pain, is he? He's incapable of feeling pain." The detective stood, wrapping an arm around Farrell's shoulders. He knew comfort was out of character for him, but he had grown oddly fond of this boy. _

_"W-will there be a funeral?" Farrell stammered around his laboured breathing, and the detective nodded, promising that he would ensure one was arranged. "Will you be there?" _

_"If you want me to be there, yes." Sherlock agreed, feeling an odd sense of guilt that he couldn't save his little brother rising in his chest. _

_Farrell had appeared on the detective's doorstep, rather dishevelled and clearly out of breath. He stuttered his way around explaining that he believed he had a case for the detective and was invited in. They had sat opposite one another as Farrell was ordered to "state your case". Farrell explained himself, that he was seeking someone to help him and his brother escape before they were hurt any more. _

_It took Sherlock a few moments to register that this teenage boy had worked up enough courage to alert 'Sherlock Holmes' to the fact that he was being abused. Once he figured it out, he readily accepted the case, introducing Farrell to the irregulars and ordering them to help him settle in. _

_Sherlock had tried his hardest, really he had. The detective had shown up at the address Farrell had provided him with, ready to grab the boy and leave. But he had come up short. The house was completely empty and there was no sign of the little boy. Sherlock had collected evidence, having brought a Petri-dish with him (for reasons even he didn't know) and analysed it. _

_He found the boy, and the abuser, after a fight in which the abuser had left Sherlock with a sprained wrist and a black eye, but other than that he was unharmed. The little boy, on the other hand, was no so lucky. Little Malcolm had not survived another beating. His own father had killed him, and that thought alone was enough to cause the detective's stomach to reject its contents. _

_Sherlock had returned to his flat with a heavy heart and phoned the house, telling Farrell that he needed to come immediately. He must have known from the detective's tone of voice that there was something amiss because he was jittery when he turned up. As soon as he took in Sherlock's expression, the lump in his throat grew and the tears came. He didn't even need Sherlock to tell him what had happened. _

**Thank you for reading. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels**


	8. Chapter 8

**Here is Rosalie's introductory chapter. Thankfully its a little longer than Farrell's. Only Lucy and Victoria are left to be introduced.  
Sorry for any mistakes.  
Thank you for reading. **

**Rosalie (Pronounced Rosa-lee)(Rosie/Rose) 10 **\- Rosie had aspired to be a detective since she was four. She'd accidentally come across Sherlock when he had been investigating a series of disappearances. It turned out that Rosie's family had left without her, leaving her alone. When nobody came forward in search for the girl, Sherlock took her under his wing. She stayed with him at his old address until Sherlock felt comfortable introducing her to the others and giving them the task of looking after her whilst assisting her one step closer to achieving her dream of becoming a detective.

_"Excuse me, sir," The consulting detective was pulled from his thoughts by the voice, accompanied by the small hand that had been placed on his thigh. Sherlock looked down to discover a little girl standing there. She had beautiful green eyes with dark brown hair that spiralled when it reached her shoulders. "Have you seen my mum?" She was holding her hand out, a photograph clutched in her fingers, Sherlock reached out, taking it from her with a soft smile, looking at it. "Only, she told me to meet her here after playing at the playground, but she never came. I don't think, anyway." _

_"How long have you been here?" Sherlock questioned as he handed the picture back, watching her shove it in the pocket of her jeans. He noted the goose pimples appearing on her thin arms, a direct result of the interchange between the sun and the moon, the air turning cold. Instead of answering with words, she simply shrugged her shoulders. _

_"Maybe I should wait a little longer." The girl spoke, more to herself than Sherlock. "She might just be running late." Sherlock doubted that very much, but gently offered to stay with her. There was no way he was leaving a vulnerable, inquisitive little girl alone in the darkness. "She'll be here any minute." The girl murmured as she hopped onto the bench beside the detective, leaning against the wooden backrest. _

_"I think it would be best to get you somewhere you can be comfortable." Sherlock mentioned casually as he watched the shivering little girl. "Somewhere nice and warm." The detective was fumbling in the pockets of his Belstaff as he spoke to the girl, suddenly presenting a card he had (finally) been provided with by the Yard. _

_"I'm a Consulting Detective." He introduced himself, handing her his card. "Sherlock Holmes. I work with Scotland Yard." Sherlock stood slowly, placing the card back into his pocket when she returned it and pulling out a mobile phone. "I'll phone the police and let them know that I have you with me in case your mother comes looking for you. That way they can contact me and I can provide her with an address to come and collect you." _

_The girl, who introduced herself as "Rosalie, but please call me Rosie or Rose, it's less...snobby" was a little unsure at first but apparently the prospect of a warm beverage and some food was good enough to entice her. _

_Little Rosie stayed with Sherlock for three days before it became completely apparent that her family was making no attempt to find her. Sherlock made a few enquiries about her, discovering that her mother, father, brother and dog had left. They had moved to a different part of England and had gone without her. Sherlock was fuming._

_"I can't believe it." She breathed, "They took the dog, but they didn't take me." Sherlock, feeling oddly sentimental towards the little girl, opened his arms to her, cradling her to his chest as she sobbed into his shirt. _

**Thank you, again, for reading. **

**Please, let me know what you think. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	9. Chapter 9

**Lucy's story. **

**Next will be Victoria. **

**Sorry for any mistakes.  
Thank you for reading.**

**Lucy 12** \- Lucy had bumped into a few of the irregulars on the streets. She was a thin girl, small for her age with square black glasses. When she broke down and opened up to the irregulars, Farrell and Tammie introduced her to Sherlock who took her under his wing.

_"I really need to!" Tammie groaned through gritted teeth, tugging at Farrell's hand in an attempt to pull him from the swing, urging him to hurry up. They set off, leaving the play area that they had found themselves spending a lot of time in recently. Tammie had decided suddenly that she needed to go to the toilet and she needed to go _now_. Farrell checked his mental map, knowing that they were too far away from any supermarkets and there was no way she'd be able to hold it until they reached their accommodation, not when he took into account the other children that lived there. The closest lavatory to where they were right now was in Sherlock's flat. And it appeared that they would need to pay him (and his toilet) a visit rather soon. "Farrell!" She whined in desperation. _

_Farrell loved Tammie, of course he did, he saw her as his little sister, but her newly developed habit of holding her bladder way beyond her limit was becoming very draining. Farrell tried to calm her, assuring her that she would be just fine as the pair turned the corner, nearing closer to Baker Street. He was about to reassure her again when his frame collided with someone smaller than himself. He looked back to apologise but found himself stopping short, earning a frustrated groan from Tammie. _

_The person he had collided with was a young girl, not much younger than himself, who was leaning up against the wall, her head bowed and her hands covering her face. It was obvious just from looking at her that she was crying, her small chest was heaving and the occasional sniffle escaped her, the sound reaching Farrell's ears. He retraced his steps, coming to a stop in front of her. _

_"Are you okay?" He questioned, gaining the girl's attention. She removed her hands from her face revealing her thick rimmed black glasses but she refused to meet his gaze as Tammie approached with an odd gait. Farrell could tell that there was a complain in her mind, but when she saw the girl, it died on her tongue. _

_"Can we help?" Tammie questioned, joining Farrell, standing with her legs crossed tightly. _

_"I have nowhere to go!" The girl hiccoughed, "My step-mum kicked me out. She thinks I'm too much trouble." Farrell felt a sense of anger rise in his chest as he watched the girl, more tears making an appearance. _

_"What's your name?" He questioned, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. _

_"Lucy." She sniffled. _

_"Well, Lucy," Tammie tried to smile, but it appeared to be a bit more of a grimace as she switched her position, "I think we can help." She gestured around the vicinity with her hand. "There's a man who lives around here." _

_"A friend of ours." Farrell elaborated. _

_"More like a father. Or a Fagin. Do you know who Fagin is?" Lucy nodded. "And we can introduce you to him." _

_"Are you sure you have nowhere to go? No grandmas or grandpas? No uncles or aunties?" Farrell questioned, holding his hand out for her as they made their way towards Baker Street. It didn't take long to reach their destination, probably down to Tammie's urgency. Farrell knocked on the door as Tammie gripped onto the fence. The door was opened moments later by John, clearly just getting ready to leave for work. Farrell smiled as he remembered John's reaction to finding out that Sherlock had an army of intelligence gathering children. _

_"Here to see Sherlock?" Was all John said, stepping aside to let them in. _

_"I'm going to wet myself!" Tammie declared suddenly, straightening up, barging past John and up the stairs. She didn't even speak to Sherlock who had appeared at the top of the stairs after hearing his name mentioned. Sherlock didn't speak either, only gestured for Farrell to bring the girl up. Farrell explained who she was and Lucy explained her story just as Tammie left the bathroom, clearly a lot more comfortable now. _

_"...introduce her to the others." Sherlock was saying as Tammie joined them, automatically perching on Sherlock's knee. "And you," He shifted so she wouldn't fall, "what have I told you about your bladder?" _

_"It can only hold so much." Tammie recited. _

_"You'll make yourself unwell holding it for so long. Now, take Lucy home and get her settled in. Ring me if there are any problems." _

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please let me know what you think. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry about the sudden rush of updates. I wanted to get these last four introductory chapters up before I could move on to the actual series.  
Sorry about any mistakes.**

**Victoria (Vicky) 7** \- Vicky had been discovered by Dean and Kaine after Sherlock had moved to Baker Street. She had been eating out of bins at the back of a supermarket and the twins had decided to go and see what they could find in those bins. When the boys found her, they bought her chips with the money Sherlock had given them. They waited until Sherlock left Baker Street alone and introduced him to her. Sherlock gave them strict instructions to take her to the house he and Mycroft had set up for the irregulars, to get Lucy and Rosie to bathe her and to settle her into the irregulars.

Vicky

_Kaine carelessly flung out his left arm, the appendage colliding painfully with his brother's chest as the pair halted mid step. The oldest of the twins, silencing his brother's disgruntled complains with a glare, cocked his head to the side slightly, wordlessly signalling for his brother to follow. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, his mouth open slightly mid-complain, as he followed his brother, feeling a little like a spy as they pressed themselves up against the concrete wall, Kaine poking his head around the corner. _

_Holding up his left hand to stop Dean, Kaine he held back a gasp as his gaze fell upon a young girl atop of the large dustbins, burrowing her way into them, clearly hunting for something. They stood for a moment, just observing her before Kaine decided that they should intervene. He made a hook with his finger, bending it towards him to tell his brother to follow him and led him towards the girl in the dustbin. _

_She was clad in only a pair of grey shorts and a light blue t-shirt, her feet covered by a pair of battered canvas trainers that were clearly too small for her. Her black hair was pulled back into a scruffy ponytail, her eyes shielded by a pair of black-rimmed glasses. The pair shared a knowing look when the girl rose from the confines of the dustbin, freezing as she met the twin's eyes, a stale bread roll halfway to her mouth. _

_The twins hauled themselves up into the garbage receptacle, treading overflowing rubbish until they reached her. She swallowed harshly and focused her, unwavering, gaze on the twins, holding the bread protectively to her chest, as though frightened they would take it from her. _

_"You look cold." Kaine noted, observing the girl as he settled himself atop of a black bin bag, his brother mirroring him. He shrugged off the jacket he was wearing, hold it out to her with his right hand. "Take it." He urged, shaking it a little. "You'll feel better if you get warmed up. I'm Kaine." He pointed to his brother as the girl hurriedly slipped on the coat. "This is Dean. What's your name?" _

_"Victoria." The girl's voice was soft, a little higher in pitch than the twins would have assumed. "Uh, Vicky." _

_"Do you want some chips?" Dean questioned as though suddenly having an epiphany. His head popped up from where he had been staring into the dustbin, trying to decide whether it was worth climbing in fully to retrieve a tennis ball or not. "We have money for lunch." He gestured to his brother, his gaze trained on the girl. Sherlock often provided his irregulars with money, just in case he couldn't deliver food to them. _

_"There's a chip shop not far from here." Kaine continued his brother's question. "The chips are delicious and really cheap compared to everywhere else. What do you think?" Vicky seemed unsure of whether she should accept the offer or not. Worried that the boys were trying to trick her. But they succeeded in convincing her. The sound of warm food was enticing. They guided her to said fish and chip shop, a hidden, homey shop with a kind old lady behind the counter. She always gave the twins extra for their money and was more than happy to do the same for their friend. _

_"He should be leaving for St. Bart's in around 10 minutes." Kaine noted, glancing at his brother who was fighting with his plastic fork. "If we take the shortcut we should catch him just as he leaves." Dean turned slightly, gesturing for Vicky to speed up as she scoffed the chips as though they were going to disappear any minute. "He'll know what to do, won't he?" Vicky seemed oblivious to the conversation that was occurring between the twins. _

_"Of course he will." Dean assured his brother as they guided Vicky to Baker Street, they hung around on the corner, waiting patiently for a certain consulting detective to exit his flat. He stepped out of the door and onto the street, clearly looking for a cab. His coat floated behind him as he turned, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for his transport. _

_"Sherlock!" Kaine, who had been peering around the corner, stage-whispered, slightly surprised that the detective heard him. He turned, meeting the boy's gaze and beckoning for him to approach._

_"Who's this?" Sherlock questioned, gesturing to the shy girl who was clinging onto Dean's hand as though it was her lifeline. Sherlock's eyes danced over her, taking in everything he needed to know. _

_"Vicky." Kaine supplied, taking it upon himself to explain how they had come across her. _

_"What have I told you about playing in bins?" Sherlock questioned before turning back to the subject at hand. "Take her home. Get Rosie and Lucy to bathe her and find some clothes in the supply that will fit her. I'll be around later, but now," a black cab pulled up beside him, "I have to get to Bart's. Make sure she's comfortable."  
_

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please let me know what you think. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels**


	11. Chapter 11

**Here is the first of the stories.  
Should I list who is in the chapter, or just leave it as it is? **

**Sorry for any mistakes. **

"Eleiyah," The girl jolted away from the experiment she had been observing as though the eyeballs had harmed her somehow and turned to the source of the voice, standing before her was the consulting detective, his head tilted slightly as squinted at her, clearly trying to deduce what she had been doing with his experiment, "John tells me you've been feeling left out," Sherlock continued slowly, finding nothing wrong with his experiment, as he stepped closer to the girl. "I'd like you to elaborate." He walked past her and dropped onto the seat he had been on earlier, glancing over his notes and checking his experiment quickly as he waited for her to speak.

"Its nothing important." Eleiyah shrugged, standing beside Sherlock and glancing over the detective's notes along with him, clearly relieved at not being reprimanded.

"Yes, Eleiyah," Sherlock's speech was dripping with sarcasm, "because everybody cries over something unimportant, correct?" The seven year old suppressed an eye roll as she realised that, clearly, John had told him about that too. She turned, walking away from the detective and placing the wooden table between them. "Now, elaborate." Sherlock's left hand flicked, as though he was gesturing for her to speak. He pulled his attention away from his notes, focusing it instead on her.

"Sometimes I'd like to go on cases with you." Eleiyah punctuated her words with another shrug, trying to seem as though the situation wasn't that much of a big deal.

"That's nothing to cry about." Sherlock commented offhandedly as he stirred some strange looking liquid he had in a beaker. "Which tells me that there's more to it."

"You never invite me." Eleiyah explained as she hopped up onto the chair opposite him, her small hands falling in her lap as Sherlock steepled his over his mouth, regarding her.

"If you want to come with me, Eleiyah, all you have to do is ask." Sherlock seemed indifferent, his voice holding a tint of boredom. "Its really nothing to get upset about." Sherlock looked up at the girl, taking in her expression, he placed the pipette he had been using onto a piece of kitchen paper before returning his hands to their steepled position as his eyebrows furrowed. "Eleiyah, you can't seriously be telling me that you were crying because I don't invite you on cases." The girl bowed her head, a blush rising on her cheeks as she felt a sense of shame wash over her.

"I told John it was stupid. I said it wasn't important." She defended herself, sliding off of the chair, clearly intending to leave, "I said you'd think I'm just trying to cause trouble."

"Eleiyah, stop." She did, halting halfway across the room, her body still facing the door. Sherlock had stood from his seat and was making his way towards her. "I don't think you're trying to cause trouble. I can see that this means a lot to you." He sighed slightly, lifting her from the floor and onto the seat he had been sat on, crouching in front of her. "Eleiyah, I don't want you to be afraid or ashamed to come and speak to me if there is something worrying you. I don't bite."

"No," Eleiyah shook her head, "but you do snap and snarl."

"Eleiyah," Sherlock ignored the jibe, "will you come and speak to me if you have any problems?" The detective's gaze was firm, as were the hands resting on Eleiyah's thighs.

"I will." Eleiyah nodded.

"Good." Sherlock approved. "When I next have a case that is suitable for you to accompany me on, I'll make sure to contact you, yes?" When the girl nodded, her eyes lighting up, Sherlock smiled softly.

**Thank you for reading. **

**Please let me know what you think. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	12. Chapter 12

**Here is another update for this. Again, I'm sorry that its been so long since this was last updated.  
Sorry for any mistakes.  
****Sorry its short.**

"No." There was no chance of misunderstanding Sherlock's meaning as he looked down at the boys hovering beside him. Sherlock was pacing the room, his hands steepled under his chin as he did so. He had received a call from Lestrade whilst the boys were there earlier that morning and they had left so he could discuss it properly with the detective inspector, only to return minutes later with Peter in tow. "You cannot accompany me on this case. It's simply not feasible."

"Why?" Demanded Zac as he stood, rising to his full height and folding his arms across his chest. Sherlock would have laughed at Zac's attempt at sizing up to him had it not been for the fact that child was questioning his reasoning.

"I said so." Sherlock answered curtly, steepling his hands under his chin as he regarded the pair.

"That's not a reason." Kaine huffed, mirroring Zac's position. "That's an excuse."

"You are _not_ permitted to accompany on this case." Sherlock stated. "And that is final. It's far too dangerous."

"But Peter hasn't been on a case yet." Zac informed him, gesturing towards the boy in the doorway. "He really wants to." Both Zac and Kaine had lost a few inches on their height as they gave up their 'tough guy' act, deciding that trying to scare Sherlock into allowing them to join him was a stupid idea. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, tearing his attention away from the pair and applying it to the boy who was lurking in the doorway to 221B. Peter's hands were buried in his pockets, his head bowed. But even from his position in the middle of the room, Sherlock noted the blush painting Peter's cheeks.

"You two," Sherlock spoke, addressing Kaine and Zac but continuing to look at Peter, "sit with John." He gestured to the sofa where John had perched to watch the scene unfold. "Peter." He moved his right hand, creating a hook with his index finger and signalling for the nine year old to follow him. Sherlock guided the child to his bedroom, pointing to his bed.

"I don't want to cause trouble." Peter whispered weakly as he perched tentatively atop of Sherlock's neatly made bed. His head remained bowed as he began to play with his fingers, clearly trying to avoid looking the detective in the eye.

"And you're not." Sherlock instantly reassured him, crossing the room so that he was closer to him. "I _will_ take you on a case with me, Peter." Sherlock stressed, uncomfortably reaching out to pat the boy's shoulder. "But this one is far too dangerous. I won't risk taking children to a crime scene or on a case that I believe would be too much for them to handle." Sherlock explained, lowering himself to the floor so that he could meet Peter's gaze. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I said not to ask." Peter noted, his voice still a whisper. Sherlock could tell from the trembling of the little boy's hands that it was fear that was causing him to speak so quietly.

"Asking is one thing." Sherlock noted offhandedly, his left hand waving slightly, as though batting away the comment. "Nagging after I said no is another." The detective had scooted closer to Peter and had rested his forearms on the child's thighs, looking up at him with something that could be identified as concern in his multicoloured orbs. "Peter, I will find a case that is suitable for you to accompany me on." Sherlock promised. "But this isn't one. Do you understand?" He watched as Peter nodded.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows at the boy's unnecessary apology.

"Nonsense." Sherlock responded. "You're a child. It's in your nature to be inquisitive. Now," He rose from the floor, casually ruffling Peter's curls, "I believe I need to have a conversation with Zac and Kaine about the meaning of the word 'no'." Sherlock extended a hand, watching as Peter stood from the bed and took it, allowing himself to be guided out of Sherlock's bedroom.

**Thank you for reading, I'd love to know what you think.  
ibelieveinguardianangels **


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry about any mistakes. **

"Sherlock?" The man in question tore his attention away from the book that he had been reading and looked towards the doorway. Lucy was standing, half in and half out of the room, a hairbrush in her left hand and her right on the door handle. Sherlock closed the book, placing it on the floor beside his seat and tilted his head backwards, raising his chin slightly in a silent signal for her to enter. Lucy did so, albeit rather hesitantly, closing the door behind her and making her way over to him.

"I don't have any cases." Sherlock informed her out of habit, but Lucy shook her head at his words and came to a stop in front of him.

"I'm not here about a case." She assured him, stepping backwards slightly as he shifted in his seat. "I was wondering, maybe, I know its weird but, could you - I mean, will you-"

"Lucy." Sherlock interrupted her, trying to stop her nervous stammering. "Take a deep breath, think about what you want to say and try again."

"Will you brush my hair, please?" She questioned, averting her gaze as though expecting to be reprimanded for asking Sherlock to perform such an unchallenging task. Sherlock didn't speak, instead he simply sat up straight and took the brush from her hands, opening his legs and patting the seat, gesturing for her to sit. "I didn't want to ask in case you found it odd." Lucy explained as she sat in the space he had created for her, her hands resting on his knees. Sherlock gently ran his fingers through her thick hair before taking the brush to it. "I wish someone would do this more often. I like it. It helps to calm me down." She admitted, closing her eyes.

"Why do you need to be calmed down?" Sherlock questioned as he continued to systematically run the brush through Lucy's hair.

"I had a disagreement with Zac." Lucy mumbled in response, opening her eyes and beginning to trace patterns on Sherlock's legs.

"About?" Sherlock encouraged her to continue, his voice soft as he hummed unconsciously.

"It was stupid really." Lucy shrugged her shoulders, as though trying to brush off the incident.

"Tell me." Sherlock ordered softly and, despite knowing that Sherlock could just deduce what had happened, opened her mouth to answer him.

"Zac kept taking my things." Lucy explained. "I asked him to stop but he just ignored me."

"And so you got into an argument with him." Sherlock finished, gently running his fingers through her hair again.

"I needed to leave." Lucy sighed softly, her left hand continuing to trace patterns on Sherlock's trousers. "This was the only place that I could think of to go."

"I'm glad that you came here. I'd much prefer you to be here with me rather than upset and alone somewhere." Sherlock noted offhandedly. "Do you have a hair tie?" Lucy held out the black bobble and Sherlock took it, wrapping it around his wrist. "Shall I plait it?"

"Yes please." Lucy smiled softly, relaxing into the detective as he did so.

**Thank you for reading. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Mentions of child abuse. Its nothing to descriptive but I didn't want to risk not supplying a warning. There are two updates for this one today.  
To those of you still reading, thank you for sticking with me, I know I'm not the best at updating.  
As usual, I'd like to apologise for any mistakes.**

"Farrell, stop." Sherlock was standing in the doorway in his pyjamas having stayed overnight with the children after Peter had been unwell. Dean, John and Tammie stood behind the detective, who was holding out his hands in a placating gesture, watching the scene unfold. "Farrell, you don't want to do this." Sherlock spoke softly but his voice remained firm, clearly putting across a sense of authority.

The teenager was currently hovering in the centre of the sitting room, a chair clasped tightly in his hands, lifted above his head. His eyes were dark, his expression conveying nothing but anger, his clenched teeth grinding audibly as he stared at Kaine, the current recipient of his anger. Kaine was clearly scared, his shoulders were tensed, his head bowed slightly as he tried to avoid his gaze.

"Farrell," Sherlock spoke again, slowly entering the room, not wanting to startle the teen into doing anything stupid, "put the chair down. I know that you don't _really_ want to hurt him." Sherlock's voice was quiet now, reassuring, as he edged closer and closer to the boy. "Put the chair down, Farrell," Sherlock repeated, "and come with me."

Farrell hesitated momentarily before letting out a furious growl, spinning around and launching the metal legs of the chair against the window, the sound of shattering glass made them all wince. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his hands clenched tightly beside him before the realisation of what he had done registered and he cast an ashamed glance at Sherlock.

Farrell bolted out of the sitting room, pushing past the consulting detective who was immediately hot on his tail, following him out of the room and leaving the doctor to check on Kaine. Sherlock caught up with Farrell in his bedroom.

"Farrell," Sherlock entered the bedroom to find the boy sitting on the floor at the end of his bed, his knees pulled up to his chest as he found great interest in his fingernails. It was clear to the detective even from the doorway that Farrell was trying not to cry. His chest was shuddering with his uneven breathing and he had created a bulge in his cheek with his tongue.

"I'm just like him." Farrell whispered without raising his gaze as Sherlock sat down on the floor beside him. "My dad."

"Of course you are." Sherlock nodded. "50% of your Autosomal DNA derives from your father. It's expected that," Sherlock trailed off as he realised that a scientific explanation of his genealogy wasn't what Farrell was looking for. "However," Sherlock purposely softened his voice, "you're not like your father in this aspect. Everybody feels anger." Sherlock assured him.

"But I _can't control it_." Farrell growled, sending his fist flying behind him and into the basic structure of his bed, the action evoking a bang from the hollow inside. "I get so angry that I just want to hurt people. I want to make them keep their noses out of my business and show them that _it's nothing to do with them_."

"You're mistaken Farrell," Sherlock noted, his voice slightly softer than usual, "you demonstrated merely moments ago that you are capable of controlling your anger. You don't damage people, Farrell, only things. You possess a lot more self-control that you allow yourself to believe."

"I wanted to hurt Kaine." Farrell admitted. "All because I was feeling that way out and he made a passing comment about my little brother." The boy had begun to bend his fingers backwards, digit by digit, as he grew more and more upset. "All he said was 'do you miss him' and I threatened him with a chair."

"You didn't follow through with it." Sherlock argued, trying to assure him.

"I think that's only because you and John were there." Farrell noted, glancing up at the detective, "I think I would have done if there had been no witnesses, if there's been nothing to prove that I'd done it. I don't want to deal with the repercussions."

"You're intelligent, Farrell," Sherlock informed him, "and I believe that you are capable of controlling this temper of yours. However, if it would make you feel better then I am willing to arrange for you to see a therapist who can assist you in your anger management." Sherlock offered.

A subdued silence fell over them, broken by Farrell.

"I thought that he was going to kill _me_." Farrell whispered and it took Sherlock a few moments to realise that he wasn't talking about Kaine.

_Farrell hadn't realised that the relationship between himself and his father was an atypical one. He had always assumed that every father-son relationship worked this way. He'd had absolutely nothing to compare it to. Even little Malcolm was the same. _

_It wasn't until he began to attend school that Farrell realised that his home life was nowhere near being ordinary. Farrell discovered that it wasn't viewed as normal, nor was it socially acceptable, to be unwashed with his hair unkempt. He discovered that it wasn't normal to be scratching himself sore everyday from the bugs and parasites that lived on him and shared his makeshift bed. A single mattress he and his brother shared. _

_He noticed that the children he attended school with were happy. They were always smiling, always laughing. They were planning to have tea at one another's houses or talking about up and coming birthday parties that he was never invited to. _

_Farrell had been unaware that it was not acceptable for an adult to hurt him so severely that he had days where he was barely able to move. And he had been unaware that it wasn't right for him to be starved for days on end until his father remembered to give him some food. It wasn't until an elderly member of staff had pulled him aside and spoken to him about it that he figured that there was something wrong. _

_Farrell knew that she had passed it on to higher authorities and that the social services had been contacted. He remembered being told that there would likely be a visit from a lady to see how he was doing. The visit never happened. They had set up a meeting but failed to follow through with the procedure as his father had informed the social worker that they'd had an outbreak of fleas from their, nonexistent, dog. Clearly the lady didn't want to be infested._

_Farrell felt guilty every day. He wishes that he'd have known something was amiss earlier. He wished that he could have had the courage to do something sooner. He wished that he could have saved his little brother. _

"Farrell?" A familiar voice and a warm hand pulled him from his stupor. "Farrell?" The voice Farrell recognised to be Sherlock. "Are you with me?" A slight nod was the only response Sherlock received from the boy. "Welcome back. I lost you for a moment there."

Farrell nodded almost imperceptibly in recognition of his words. He allowed a tear to fall, quickly reaching up and swiping it away.

"Farrell." Sherlock soothed.

"Sherlock." Farrell spoke suddenly, his voice cracking in the middle of the word as he rose slightly, holding his arms out to him.

Wordlessly, Sherlock enveloped Farrell in his arms, holding him tightly.

**Thank you for reading. **

**I've been having trouble coming up with scenarios for this story recently as I have run out of pre-prepared ones so it would help a great deal if you could, possibly, send me some suggestions for stories. **

**I **_**will**_** be updating my Teenlock fic. **

**I'd love to hear what you think. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	15. Chapter 15

**Here's the second update.  
Sorry, again, for any mistakes I may have missed. **

"Isa," Sherlock's voice rose in volume a little as he called the name of the little girl sitting in front of him, her head bowed and her chin resting against her chest. The five year old slowly lifted her head to meet his gaze, "are you listening?" He watched as she nodded, noting how the distant look in her eyes told him a different story.

Isadore, Vicky and Eleiyah were currently sitting, cross-legged, on the floor of Baker Street's sitting room, involved in one of Sherlock's lessons. He was teaching the girl's about basic scientific experiments that he knew that they would find interesting.

Sherlock frowned slightly at Isa's reaction, but continued his lesson. When he finally returned his gaze to her to make sure that she was still listening, it was to see tears making their way down her cheeks, dripping onto her shirt.

"Isadore," Sherlock called softly, putting down the beaker he had been holding up in his left hand, "why the tears?"

"My stomach started to hurt." Isadore whimpered, wiping at her eyes. "I don't feel very well." Sherlock paused his lesson, gesturing for the little girl to approach him. He lowered himself to his knees so that he was on eye level with her and reached out, carefully brushing her hair from her forehead, gently placing his hand their in a bid to check her temperature.

"Do you feel like you need to vomit?" Sherlock questioned gently, placing a hand on either side of the girl's waist, watching as she shook shrugged her shoulders hesitantly, unconsciously leaning towards the detective. "Isadore, truthfully, please." She nodded and Sherlock, ending the lesson with some things for the other girls to investigate, swept her off to the bathroom.

"Sherlock," Isadore whimpered as he ushered her into the bathroom, closing the door behind them.

"Don't panic." Sherlock ordered softly, lowering himself onto the side of the bathtub as Isadore hovered beside him. Sherlock reached out, taking her little hand in his and squeezing it gently. "Try to stop crying, Isa, you're making it worse." He referred to the little girl's coughing which was slowly leading to retching and stood, carefully guiding her back to the toilet.

"My stomach." She sobbed, her right hand rubbing the area.

"I know." Sherlock assured her gently, mentally counting down the seconds as she began to cough again. By the time he reached '3' Isadore hiccoughed, emptying the contents of her painful stomach into the toilet bowl before sending a worried look towards Sherlock who just smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry." He smiled gently, seeing the flash of panic in her eyes. "I have an idea," Sherlock noted as he knelt down, carefully rubbing her back, "when you're finished, we can sit together on the sofa and I'll a book to her. Hmm?"

Isadore nodded, seemingly content with that idea.

**Sorry if Sherlock seems a little out of character. **

**Please leave a review. **

**Thank you for reading. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	16. Chapter 16

**My apologies that it took so long for this to be updated. **

**Sorry for any mistakes. **

Pain. That was all that Lucy could feel. A burning, overwhelming pain. The floor beneath her back was cold and damp. The bleeding wound on the side of her temple was pounding in time with her heart beat, the sensation making her feel sick. Her arms were throbbing, the cold air around her causing them to sting. She could hear the voices, a number of people trying to calm her. She could see the slightly blurred outline of Dean and Kaine as they hovered over her, a mobile phone pressed to Kaine's ear. Dean was kneeling on the floor beside her, also on the phone, his right hand resting gently on her shoulder as he tried to keep her calm.

Lucy hadn't even registered the oncoming taxi as she'd run out into the road, following the twins and she definitely hadn't expected to be catapulted into the air as the vehicle collided with her. Her arms were scraped and bleeding, her left clearly broken from where she had landed on it. Her forehead was injured, a large open would pouring blood down her cheek, gravity pulling it towards her ear.

"Lucy!" She knew that voice. There was no denying who that rich baritone belonged to. Dean and Kaine looked up from Lucy as the consulting detective ran towards them, his coat floating behind him. Sherlock fell to his knees as he reached the trio, instinctively mirroring Dean's position and placing his hand on her shoulder when he saw her tears. "Have you phoned an ambulance?" He questioned the boys, watching as Dean nodded his head. "Tell me what happened." He ordered and Dean did so, explaining that Lucy had failed to look before crossing the road.

Sherlock pointed to the twins when the ambulance arrived and Lucy was loaded onto a stretcher, telling them to go home and tell the others what had happened. He told them to assure the others that he was there with her and left with the promise to update them.

Dean and Kaine felt terrible. Perched on Kaine's bed, they each blamed themselves for Lucy being hurt despite both being very aware that what had happened was just an accident. Dean, always the sensitive one of the pair, had tears blurring his vision as he fought to keep them at bay. Both boys were leaning against the headboard, almost clinging onto one another.

"Boys," The twins started at the sound, their movements synchronised as they turned to look at the detective who had appeared in the doorway. Not giving him the chance the speak, Kaine asked;

"Is she dead?"

The question appeared to be almost instinctive and seemed to stump the detective for a moment as he blinked.

"What?" He asked eventually, shaking his head. "No, of course she's not. Lucy's a little shaken up, but otherwise she's okay." He explained as he entered the room, approaching the twins. "Her left arm is broken and both have a good layer of skin shredded. Road rash." He noted. "She's had to have six stitches to close the wound on her head and she has a mild concussion. She'll be feeling better in a few days."

"Where is she?" Dean inquired, his voice thick with emotion as he made an attempt to hide his head behind Kaine's shoulder.

"Watching television in bed. Eleiyah is in there with her making sure that she doesn't fall asleep just yet, but she does need to rest so we're not going to bother her." Sherlock sat himself down on the end of Kaine's bed, watching the twins. "I wanted to make sure that the two of you are okay."

"Us?" Kaine questioned with furrowed brows. "We weren't the ones hit by a car." Kaine stated, noting as a tear escaped it's duct and began to roll down his brother's cheek at his words.

"No." Sherlock agreed, kicking of his shoes and crossing his legs, pushing himself closer to the twins. "But you did witness it. Lucy is going to be fine." He promised. "I want to congratulate you on your quick thinking. You did the right thing sheltering her from any more danger and for contacting the emergency services. And because I know you, I want to assure you that you're not to blame for what happened. Lucy admitted that she didn't think to look before she crossed the road."

Sherlock reached out, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder to try and calm him down.

"Who's going to be looking after her?" Kaine asked, joining Sherlock in trying to comfort his brother.

"I am. I will be staying here until Lucy is feeling better and John will be visiting first thing in the morning to check on her." He informed. Sherlock settled himself with the twins, staying with them until he was certain that neither of them were going to go into shock before disappearing into the bedroom that Lucy shared with two other girls and sleeping on the floor for the rest of the night so that he could keep an eye on her.

**I know it's been a while, but I do intend to update sooner next time. **

**Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	17. Chapter 17

**This one has been written for quite a while, I just never got around to posting it. **

**Sorry for any mistakes.**

Dean didn't think he could remember ever being this scared. His heart was pounding painfully against his ribcage and his breathing was irregular. He was on the brink of a full blown panic attack, of course he knew that. And he also knew that he needed to calm down and contact somebody for help, most likely Sherlock. But his phone was in his pocket and he just couldn't bring himself to move for fear of drawing attention to himself. He was also terrified that his main contact would be ashamed of him. He'd always taught him to fight, to defend himself, to show that he couldn't be pushed around. What had he done instead? He'd lost control of his bladder and fled.

How he had found himself hidden in an overgrown hedge in the nature area of the local playground he had no idea. Of course he knew where he was and he knew how he'd got there, but he didn't understand where the sudden cowardice had come from. But he was trapped now and he needed to contact someone to come and help him, to chase away those bullies that had been pursuing him and were now hanging around, kicking stone and cans, clearly waiting for him to make a reappearance. He didn't want to message Sherlock, but John was at work. The other irregulars were busy and wouldn't be much help anyway. Lestrade was busy with a case that Sherlock had turned down and Mycroft was far otherwise occupied dealing with some kind of threat to national security. That only left Sherlock.

Holding his breath, he slowly brought his hand down to his pocket, grimacing as he pulled his phone out, letting out the breath as he typed a quick text to Sherlock. He made sure to keep it short and to the point, providing him with his location and the cause of his predicament. He could only hope that the consulting detective wasn't too wrapped up in an experiment to read the message. Dean tried to calm his erratic heartbeat, trying to relax with the hope that Sherlock had read the message and was on his way to help.

From his position crouched uncomfortable in the greenery he could see the group of bullies that had chased him there wandering around still, seemingly with nothing better to do with their boring lives than torment children. The group of four had decided to pick him as a victim when he had walked past them and ignored their orders for him to give them his chips. Dean had continued to walk, as Sherlock had taught him, only to be pushed into a brick wall, the cause of an angry graze on his elbow, and knocked to the ground, the cause of the bruises and cuts on his knees. He had intended to argue back, to prove to himself (and to Sherlock) that he could do it, but when he had managed to drag himself off of the ground and found himself surrounded by the older boys, he'd lost control of the full bladder he was intending to empty when he returned to the house, soaking his trousers and socks, and bailed.

"Dean?!" The boy's head bounced up at the sound of the familiar voice and he glanced over to where it came from. Heading into the nature area was the one and only consulting detective, his black coat billowing behind him as he did so. Once the group saw the tall detective in the flowing Belstaff heading towards them they scrambled. "Dean, where are you?" The boy took a deep breath and crawled out from his hiding place, glancing up at the detective who appeared beside him.

"Sherlock," Dean began, accepting the detective's outstretched hand and allowing him to help him from the ground. "I'm sorry." He murmured, a blush rising in his cheeks when he caught the man's gaze dropping to his soiled trousers.

"No, its fine." Sherlock waved it away, placing his hands on Dean's shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"A bit bruised," Dean shrugged, "but yes." Sherlock nodded, inspecting the graze on his elbow before shrugging off his coat and wrapping it around him to provide a bit of dignity for the boy.

"Home?" Sherlock suggested gently, watching as Dean nodded. "Your brother's not going to be happy when he finds out what happened." The detective noted as the pair set off towards the accommodation the irregulars lived in.

"I know." Dean mumbled, his cheeks reddening again, "I was going to fight back, Sherlock, I promise I was, but I-" Sherlock reached out when he heard the youngest twin's voice crack, interrupting him.

"Don't upset yourself." The pair began walking, heading towards the house that Sherlock and Mycroft ran for them, Sherlock pushed the door open, gesturing for Dean to enter first before following him. The house was just a typical house, and the children had to share rooms, but it was homey and comfortable and they loved it there. "You go and get cleaned up. When you're finished I'll check your injuries, but I don't think there's anything to worry about. Meanwhile, I'll go and speak to Kaine." Sherlock ran his hand through Peter's curls as the boy ran up to him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

**Thank you for reading. Sorry it's so short. Please let me know what you think.**

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	18. Chapter 18

**Here's Zac. I know it's not great, but I wanted to give it a try.**

**Sorry about any mistakes. **

"Zac, its only fair that you go and visit him," Tammie voiced from where she was sitting on the sofa, leaning up against Farrell. Zac could tell from her tone that she was exasperated, but that wasn't going to change his mind, "if it were the other way around, he'd not have left your bedside." Aware that she was going to start berating him for his 'lack of care for the man who saved him', Zac spoke;

"Are you stupid?" He sneered in true Sherlock fashion, "I said I'm not going, what's so difficult to understand about that?"

With that said, the 11 year old logged off of the computer that Mycroft has ensured was fitted and turned to storm out of the room, planning to make his way to his bedroom when Farrell's voice rang out.

"Why don't you at least phone him, Zac?" Farrell suggested in a tone much calmer than Tammie's. "Give the hospital a ring and ask if you can speak to him. Even if he's asleep, he'll be happy to know that you've asked about it."

"Sherlock doesn't do sentiment." Zac grumbled, walking out of the room and towards the staircase, "Why waste my time?"

**SH-SH-SH-SH**

"Zac?" Eleiyah poked her head around the door to his room, her gaze falling on Zac sitting on his bed, his nose buried in a graphic novel. She was the only one who hasn't nagged him about visiting the man. "Sherlock's at Baker Street and he's asking for you." The detective in question had been discharged that morning having been kept overnight with a stab wound to his upper leg.

"Why would he want to see me?" Zac inquired, closing his book and placing it on his duvet.

"You're the only one who hasn't been to visit him." Eleiyah shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted, "but he was really clear that he wanted to see you."

**SH-SH-SH-SH**

"Ah Zac," Sherlock's rich baritone rang out in greeting as the boy entered the apartment, "just who I wanted to see. I heard that you were refusing to contact me whilst I was in the hospital." At this, Zac forced an eye roll, trying to seem fed up with the same record. "Something about wasting your time?"

Sherlock left it as a question. Zac didn't speak, however, instead he walked over to the bookcase and turned his attention to the number of different spines.

"Zac?" Sherlock prompted.

"I just didn't see the point." Zac shrugged as though the conversation was boring him.

"Oh, I see." Sherlock nodded to himself. "You were scared."

"What?" Zac scoffed. "Of course I wasn't scared."

"Yes you were. You were frightened that seeing me in a hospital bed would be too much for you to cope with because it would shatter your illusion of me being indestructible." Sherlock noted.

"You're always so strong..." Zac trailed off, bowing his head as he realised that Sherlock had seen straight through his, admittedly weak, facade.

"Yes, it does seem that way, doesn't it? However, as much as I loath to admit it, I am only human and I do get hurt." Sherlock raised his hand, gesturing over to his seat. "Sit down, Zac." He did as he was told, dropping into Sherlock's black chair. "One of the others, or John, would have alerted you if I were in a critical condition. It's a superficial injury, but it does require me to rest for it to heal. In a few weeks, I'll be back on my feet and we'll be working on cases again."

"But one day, you might not." Zac spoke in a voice that was barely audible.

"That's true. But it's not what's happening now, is it?" Zac shook his head. "So where's the logic in worrying about something that might not happen?"

"There isn't any."

"No. There isn't." Sherlock agreed and Zac knew that they had reached the end of their conversation.

**Thank you for reading.**

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	19. Chapter 19

**This was prompted by and, therefore, dedicated to **Tamuril2**. I hope this is what you were looking for.  
Sorry for any mistakes. **

The consulting detective's head snapped up at the sound of the frightened whimper he knew had emitted from Peter. He rose from his crouched position, whirling around, his dark Belstaff floating behind him. Instantly, his gaze fell on Sergeant Donovan who was crouched near the poor boy. Peter was visibly trembling, pressing himself against the wall as Donovan reached out to him.

Within seconds, Sherlock had left the dead body and crossed the space, reaching out and plucking little Peter up from where Donovan had cornered him. Once the poor child was away from the sergeant and sat on Sherlock's hip, he began to cry, tears of panic beginning to fall as his breathing quickened.

Sherlock could feel the little boy's heart pounding beneath his shirt as he squeezed him comfortingly. Reaching up, he gently applied pressure to the back of Peter's head, pushing it towards the crook of his neck. Sherlock shushed the child for a moment, bouncing him gently, before rounding on Donovan.

"What kind of imbecile corners an abused child?" Sherlock spat, fixing Donovan with a murderous glare. "He's absolutely terrified." Sherlock could see Lestrade approaching them with a hand raised, clearly intending on trying to placate him. "No," Sherlock shook his head, gesturing with his free hand towards the sergeant. "Is _this_ really somebody that you want on your police force? Somebody who is apparently incapable of reading basic body language?" Sherlock sneered.

"What kind of freak brings a child to a crime scene?" Donovan hissed. "Where did you even get him from? Did you _kidnap_ him?"

"Leave him alone." The words were spaced out, the voice dangerously low, and all heads turned to the entrance of the crime scene. There, looking absolutely furious, was Farrell, accompanied by both Tammie and Kaine.

Seeing Kaine against caused Donovan to frown, her mind flashing back to the murder scene in which Sherlock had discovered the twins hiding in a wardrobe.

"You're stealing children from crime scenes?" Donovan questioned, incredulous, her mind jumping to ridiculous conclusions.

"Of course he's not. Don't be an idiot." Tammie sighed from beside Kaine as Farrell crossed over to Sherlock, relieving him of the frightened Peter.

"Sherlock simply helped us." Kaine added.

"Helped you?" Anderson inquired, his lip curled into a sneer as he invited himself into the conversation. "How exactly did this freak help you?"

"The same way he helps you." Tammie dropped her weight onto one leg, folding her arms across her chest. "He helped us solve our mysteries."

"And to thank him, we help him solve your mysteries." Kaine added.

"Intelligence gathering children?" Donovan question. "What kind of sick-o does that? Listen, where are your parents?"

"Dead." Kaine stated simply. "And you know that better than anyone."

"Our parents are either dead, abusive or missing." Farrell informed the sergeant and the flash of hurt in his eyes that wouldn't have been visible to others was obvious to the detective who felt a sense of anger rising in his chest. "Has Sherlock never taught you not to assume?"

"Alright," Lestrade spoke up, trying to defuse the situation, "I really can't allow you all in here..."

"Hold on, boss," Donovan grumbled, "aren't you going to do something about this?"

"About some happy and healthy children who look up to Sherlock as a role model? No, I don't think there's anything that needs doing."

"But boss-"

"I am already aware of these children. They are happy, healthy and we'll looked after. The social services know that they are in the care of Sherlock, his brother and doctor Watson. Were there any worries, we would be informed. Sherlock, take them home."

Sherlock needed no further direction, he took Peter's hand and led the other three away from the scene unable to keep the smirk of his face. He'd taught the children well.

**Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


	20. Chapter 20

**Sorry it's been a while since this once was updated. And thank you for reading. **

**Sorry for any mistakes.**

The consulting detective shot up from the table containing his current experiment at the sound of an extremely loud thud that echoed around the top of the staircase, close to the doorway to the flat, a high-pitched scream causing Sherlock to wince. Numerous thumps followed the first, a scream punctuating each. The person causing the scream clearly in pain.

Within seconds, Sherlock was at the bottom of the staircase where little Eleiyah was, sobbing. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she had fallen down the 17 steps that lead to 221B.

"What have you hurt, Eleiyah?" Sherlock inquired instantly as he slowed to a stop beside her. He knelt on the floor as she sobbed out her list of injuries, checking them over in turn.

There was a rapidly bruising injury to her hand between her knuckles where she had reached up to try and grab at the banister to steady herself. A large, bleeding graze was evident on her shin, the injury already black and blue and obviously painful. And a bump resided on her forehead where she had hit it against the floor at the top of the staircase, the source of the initial bang.

After ascertaining that an ambulance wasn't necessary, Sherlock scooped Eleiyah up from the floor, careful not to aggravate her injuries and settled her on his hip. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, sticking the fingers of her uninjured into her mouth (a habit she had developed that Sherlock was trying to break), tears still falling down her cheeks.

He shushed her, carrying her up the stairs she had fallen down and into the flat where he held her close, searching through the overhead cupboards for the first aid kit.

Sherlock settled Eleiyah on the kitchen work surface, using the sink beside her to clean the graze on her leg before icing the bruises on her hand and her head. All the while, poor Eleiyah was crying, warm tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping onto her top leaving darkened smears where they landed and soaked in to the material.

"Eleiyah?" Sherlock questioned softly, waiting until she looked up at him. "Do you feel dizzy? Or sick?"

"No." Eleiyah whispered, her voice strained and her nose bunged up.

"Do you have a headache?" At this Eleiyah slowly nodded.

"I'd like you to stay here with me tonight. You can sleep in my bed." At Eleiyah's questioning glance, Sherlock elaborated. "I'd like to keep an eye on you. It's important that you tell me if you start to feel sick or dizzy, yes?"

"Yes." Eleiyah agreed and Sherlock hooked his hands under her armpits and lifted her off the side, setting her on the floor. He re-placed the icepacks in the freezer and then guided her into the sitting room. He was about to lift her onto the settee when she shook her head.

"No?" Sherlock questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I want to sit on your knee."

Sherlock smiled softly at her, sitting down in his chair and lifting her onto his lap. He carefully rubbed her back, allowing her to curl up against him. His experiment completely forgotten.

**Thank you for reading. Please review.**

**ibelieveinguardianangels **


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